Nora's POV
My blood-soaked fingers slide off the car door handle on my first attempt. I wipe them against my jeans and grip it again, yanking the door open with trembling hands. Every part of me is shaking as I fight to keep myself from completely falling apart.
James has to be okay. He just has to be.
I'll find out what's wrong with him. I'll fix this somehow. Whatever it takes.
James struggles into the passenger seat, a sharp wince crossing his face with every movement. "I swear," he starts, pausing to close his eyes as he presses his palm against his wounded stomach, "if this blood stains the leather permanently, I'm going to lose it."
"Are you kidding me right now?" I slam his door shut and sprint around to the driver's side of the Warren. I've never actually driven his car before, always too nervous to even ask.
"Dead serious," he breathes out heavily. "This was custom made. The wait time was insane."
